Higher than a Kite
by winterlit
Summary: In which Kurt wants to comfort Blaine, and Blaine has a lot of inappropriate jokes to tell. Klaine fluff/smut, set during 3x11. Co-written with Judearaya.


Higher than a Kite

"Kurt," Blaine drawls, his face lit up by a lopsided smile. "Come here!"

Looking away, Kurt bites his lip. Blaine's so high his eye is practically turning pinwheels. It shouldn't be adorable, but it's _Blaine_. Adorable doesn't even come close.

"Please," Blaine continues, his arms outstretched. "I need you." Blaine's lips smack together as he attempts a pout, and Kurt can't hold out any longer, a peal of laughter escaping from between his tightly-pursed lips.

Well, Kurt rationalizes, giving Blaine a quick cuddle can't hurt. He gets up from his chair and walks across to the bed, reaching over to push the plaid blanket from Blaine's knees. He kneels between Blaine's legs primly, smiling softly as he begins to close the distance between them. Blaine, however, seems to want more than a quick cuddle. Immediately, he reaches out, his movements treacle-slow. His arms soon wrap around Kurt's back, warm and heavy. Kurt sighs softly, always unable to resist, as he leans into Blaine's embrace and tips his head against his boyfriend's shoulder.

"I missed you," Blaine says.

"You have no idea," Kurt says, hands flaring. "School has been utter misery without you."

It's only been two days since the accident - no, Kurt corrects himself _incident_ - but Kurt's missed seeing Blaine at school. He's missed the precious seconds they have alone in the choir room after the others have left, missed stealing glances and kisses. Most of all, he's missed how they don't _have_ to speak.

Earlier that day, Kurt had walked down the hallway with Mercedes and Tina, not alone but feeling so vulnerable as empty chatter echoed around him. If Blaine had been there, he'd have flashed Kurt a bright smile as they both headed to class, their fingers barely brushing as they passed each other. Kurt feels confident with words, but his touch could convey so much more than _I'm sorry he did this to you_ and _I love you so much_.

"What time is it now?" Kurt has to strain to hear Blaine, who is playing with the fringe of the blanket and avoiding his eyes.

"Seven," Kurt replies. Blaine's hand is warm in his, their smiles tentative and a little sad.

Time's limited now. Visiting hours at the Anderson residence are 5pm to 8pm, Kurt thinks, glumly. He's bought magazines and music and even borrowed some of Carole's board games. All he has is his bedside manner; he wants to touch, so much, but he's afraid he'll only add to the hurt.

"Not gonna break," Blaine says, with a chuckle, and Kurt sighs, relieved. He can feel the hurt pour out of Blaine as they hold each other close. Pressing his nose against Blaine's neck, Kurt snuggles in. The delicate silk of Blaine's pyjamas tickles his nose a little, the fabric slipping coolly against his fingertips as his hands rub gentle circles against Blaine's back.

It should be _him_ giving the comfort, yet in spite of himself, Kurt can't resist the urge to press his nose more tightly against Blaine's skin, inhaling his familiar scent.

"See?" Blaine says, his vowels long, spreading like honey dripping from a spoon. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" Shifting slightly, Blaine breaks the embrace and reaches behind Kurt for the blanket. Kurt shakes his head as Blaine wraps it around his back and pulls them closer together, creating their own private cocoon. "Hi!" Blaine says, laughing brightly, waving with the tips of his fingers.

Then, without warning, Blaine lifts a leg, wrapping it around Kurt's back. Kurt's retort catches in his throat and he yelps as he's drawn even closer. Clearly Blaine's painkillers have turned him into a human octopus. Kurt's wrapped tightly in the blanket, but doesn't mind the lack of movement; he's more than happy being here. Smiling, he shifts into Blaine's lap, placing his knees on either side of Blaine's thighs, and...

_Oh_.

Make that a rather _aroused_ human octopus.

"So then," Kurt starts, clearing the lump in his throat and moving back a little, watching familiar sparks of lust appear in Blaine's eye. He could never take advantage, especially in a case like this where Blaine likely won't remember this the following day. "Movie night?"

"I was thinking we could maybe make a movie of our own."

"Oo-kay, you really _are_ high," Kurt replies, telling himself to be dismissive, but he feels his cheeks warm in spite of himself. Blaine might be higher than a kite, and brimming with pick-up lines cheesier than the gut-buster special at Breadstix, but he's still _Blaine_. The rough warmth of his voice will always make the fine hairs at the back of Kurt's neck stand on end.

"You think," Blaine says, the words barely making it over his tongue, "you think Finn bought the original, or you think he got Ass-Pirates of the Caribbean?"

"Blaine! Must you be so _crass_?"

"Crass," Blaine says, nodding in a manner which looks neither sage nor wise. "I put the ass in crass. Cr-ass."

Composure now beyond dissolved, Blaine's laughter bubbles up. Kurt briefly wonders if Blaine perhaps slipped some rum in with his Coke Zero, because _he's_ starting to feel giddy just by virtue of basking in his boyfriend's company. Okay, life is much more enjoyable when things aren't serious, and Blaine's sheer effervescence is always infectious, but whichever doctor in Lima prescribed him opiates? Clearly medical malpractice. He might even ask Rachel if her fathers are willing to work pro bono on such a case.

"The original version," Kurt says. "Despite his proclivity for hugging you like a koala bear, my brother is one hundred percent straight."

"You're right. That's why his movie collection is one quarter Orlando Bloom and two thirds Jude Law."

"Shut up!" Kurt says, unable to hold back his laughter. "Blaine, you are so high you can't even do _math_."

"_You_shut up," Blaine replies, looping his arms around Kurt's waist and pulling him closer. Blaine tilts his head up slightly and his lips are warm as they press gently against Kurt's neck. His brain's undoubtedly fading and fuzzing at the edges, but Blaine's still composed enough that Kurt feels himself melt under his touch.

"Make me," Kurt says crisply, but he knows it's an empty challenge, because the moment Blaine flicks his tongue at the tiny dip behind Kurt's ear, the one that makes him clench his toes and bite his lip, Kurt will be lost for words.

Of course, Blaine does flick his tongue just there. Kurt can only groan and closes his eyes, then turns his head, trying to find Blaine's mouth.

"Ew," Kurt says, his eyes flying open in surprise. "You just licked my _chin_, Blaine!"

"Sorry," Blaine mumbles, head tilted back towards the bed. "Depth perception's a little off. God, I feel like one of those Victorian peepshow cameras. Or, or a really sexy periscope."

"Did you just compare yourself to a _periscope_?"

"Long, hard steel?" Blaine says, waggling an eyebrow.

"I may be gay, Blaine, but that doesn't mean that I find _all_ phallic objects sexy."

"Not even lampposts?"

"Not even lampposts."

"Phallic," Blaine repeats, drawing out each l. He tips his head back even further and giggles, then reaches out to, well, Kurt can't find a word to describe what Blaine's doing to him other than _frisk_. Blaine's hands are so warm, reaching under his layers to reverently stroke mindless whorls and curls over Kurt's chest. Kurt grins, shifting up to straddle Blaine high on his lap. Then, taking in Blaine's somewhat vacant and loopy expression, a sudden stab of guilt stops him in his tracks.

"Are you _sure_ I'm not taking advantage of you?"

Blaine scoffs. He hooks a finger under the gap in the fabric between the buttons in Kurt's shirt, and begins to clumsily unbutton it. "You can't take advantage of the willing. And Kurt?" Blaine looks up, Kurt shifting back slightly so their head don't bump together. "When it comes to you, I will _always_ be willing."

"Are you okay to..." Kurt waves his hands in front of his own face.

"Please," Blaine says, scoffing as he waves his hand in the vague direction of the pill bottle on his nightstand. "Masturbating on these is _fantastic_."

Kurt splutters. It's been nearly a year now, and he loves how honest and open Blaine is, but he doesn't think he'll ever be used to Blaine's lack of a filter. He covers his mouth with his hand before reaching across to the nightstand for his flute of coke. After taking a large sip, he whips his head around. Blaine's winking his one eye, and he looks so utterly cheesy that Kurt coughs again, spraying half his mouthful of coke down his shirt, and the rest out of his nose.

"Ow," is all Kurt can say as he stares down at his _white_ shirt, mortified, eyes watering and nose tingling.

"Chin up, Kurt," Blaine replies. "Coke through the nose is better than rock salt in the eye!"

"I wasn't trying to compare the two," Kurt says, gritting his teeth slightly, the liquid clammy and cool against his skin. "Oh well, this _was_ going to come off anyway."

"One less layer to work with?" Blaine says, looking far too hopeful.

"I'm not a cake, Blaine," Kurt responds, as Blaine's fingers scrabble at his clothing. Gently, Kurt reaches for his hands and lightly pushes them away. He loves it when Blaine undresses him, slowly and reverently, but Blaine doesn't seem to have realized there's a jacket in the way. Poor boy.

"Let me," Kurt replies. He's already aching, his cock pressing against the zipper of his pants, wanting nothing more than to press Blaine into the mattress and grind their erections together. He removes his clothing slowly, purposefully. Kurt palms his chest, Blaine's awed expression urging him on as he closes his eyes and feels his own soft skin under his palms. He feels drunk, almost, like he's underwater as he reaches forward to unbutton Blaine's pyjama top. Kurt takes his time, caressing the warm planes of Blaine's body over the silk of his shirt, appreciating the toned flesh he's unearthing with each popped button, before Blaine sits up and shrugs it from his shoulders.

"So beautiful," Kurt says, exhaling as he presses forward, tracing patterns over Blaine's bare skin. Kurt pulls back and blows gently, loving how Blaine's skin draws tight with goose flesh, his nipples puckering enticingly.

"_Not_ so beautiful," Blaine retorts. "I look like a pirate." Kurt frowns, because Blaine's expression indicates he's not joking. "Would you still love me if I only had one eye?"

Kurt sits back, then raises his hand, his fingers fluttering out to butterfly softly over Blaine's face, slight stubble prickling his hand. "I will always love you. If you have only one eye, or if you have ten." Kurt suppresses a laugh and looks away, trying to regain his composure. That wasn't quite as romantic as he'd intended, but luckily Blaine is so high he finds it hilarious, laughter echoing in Kurt's ears.

Leaning forward again, Kurt presses a soft kiss against Blaine's mouth. "I'd love you even if you _were_ a pirate."

"Good, 'cause I'd be a badass pirate, with a _very_ willing cabin boy."

Once Kurt's started laughing, he can't stop. He falls against Blaine, who tumbles back down onto the bed. Soon, their bodies are flush against each other. Awareness sparks through Kurt as his laughter dies down. Blaine's hands are warm against his ass, squeezing and caressing him as they rock together. Kurt trails a line of kisses across Blaine's neck, nipping his collarbone then moving down to his chest, smiling as he reaches Blaine's stomach, Blaine giggling brightly and squirming at his touch.

Kurt rocks harder, urged on, because his brain's still a little fixated on how Blaine's touched himself on this bed, reclined, like he is now, pants pooled at his feet as he strokes himself, lazy and slow, thumb dancing over the head of his cock. The pictures painted in his mind are all the encouragement he needs to shift position, moving down until he's nestled between Blaine's legs. He traces his finger against the seam of Blaine's pyjama pants, encouraging him to spread his legs. Kurt presses a kiss against the waistband of Blaine's pants, the ridges of the elastic tingling against his lips. The material's so thin, and does little to hide how hard Blaine is, does little to hide the warmth of Blaine's erection.

It's so difficult to restrain himself. Kurt wants to tear the rest of Blaine's clothing off in one sweep, feel Blaine's soft skin against his bare legs. Blaine's toes dig into his calves as Kurt continues to layer open-mouthed, sloppy kisses against the fabric. He can hear Blaine panting softly, and when he presses a kiss against the head of Blaine's cock through his pants, Blaine's leaking so much Kurt can taste it against his tongue.

"Mmm, you taste amazing," Kurt whispers.

Blaine's whimper sounds so raw, so needy that Kurt can't bear to tease right now. He needs Blaine _now_; needs to unravel him, needs to watch him fall apart. He presses a quick line of kisses up Blaine's smooth chest, flicking his tongue against Blaine's belly button in that way he knows makes Blaine giggle. Then, Kurt kisses Blaine, swallowing his whimper, Blaine's lips feeling so full as they slide against his. It's messy and dirty, Blaine grabbing handfuls of his hair, his tongue flicking against Kurt's teeth as Kurt shifts up, groaning into Blaine's mouth as their erections grind together.

Blaine, as usual, isn't wearing socks. Kurt's grateful for that because Blaine's feet are just a little bit rough as they scratch his skin just below the hem of his pants, the perfect distraction from Kurt's urge to shift his hips and grind Blaine deep into the mattress. Before Kurt can, though, Blaine shifts _his_ hips, and Kurt doesn't think of much at all. Sometimes it's rough and frantic between them; sometimes it's slow, and sweet, taking the time to savor and map every inch of each other's body. Tonight, though, neither are right. Tonight is a mixture of fast and slow, of sweet and funny, and Kurt finds it intoxicating.

The room's silent except for their breaths as Kurt kisses Blaine tenderly. For a moment, it almost feels chaste to Kurt as he trails his fingertips down Blaine's chest, tracing the contours of hard flesh. Blaine's erection jerks up into his hand under the thin layer of silk, his kisses becoming less searching and far more erratic.

"Kurt," Blaine says, his hands framing Kurt's face as he breaks away from Kurt, his gasp reverberating deeply. _"Please_."

Nodding, Kurt bites his lip and slides his thumbs under the waistband of Blaine's pyjama pants. Blaine's hips raise and he lets Kurt carefully slide his pants over his erection and down to his thighs. Blaine's cock bounces against his stomach, the tip glistening, and Kurt licks his lips. He can't help but swipe his thumb against it, sliding across the slick wetness there.

"Please," Blaine repeats. His eyes - well, eye, Kurt supposes, is wide open. Blaine's gaze is steady; he's biting his lip. Blaine wants a show? Well, he's going to get one. Raising his thumb to his mouth, Kurt hollows his cheeks, savoring Blaine's taste. Kurt knows it's shameless but can't bring himself to care. Their eyes lock and it's so intimate, the room still quiet except for the wet sounds of their kisses, breathy gasps breaking the stillness around them.

"Oh my God, Kurt. You're killing me."

Maintaining steady eye contact, Kurt lifts his palm and paints a slow stripe against it with his tongue. Blaine blinks, turning his head away slightly, his cheeks beginning to color.

"Nuh-uh," Kurt says, waggling his finger in front of Blaine's face. "I want you to watch."

Kurt licks each of his fingers in turn, swirling his tongue, determined his gaze won't falter for even a second. When he's done, he holds his hand up, catching the light from the lamp on Blaine's nightstand, ensuring he's slick enough. He knows Blaine likes it wet, needs it a little sloppy. After a final flick of his tongue against his thumb, Kurt lowers his hand. Cupping the base of Blaine's erection with his thumb and forefinger, he makes a tight circle and pumps his fist, slowly and purposefully. He hopes his smile is knowing and soft, a mirror of the one that's currently lighting up Blaine's face.

"Um, ow?" Blaine says, softly. Kurt's been careful, kept the rhythm slow to start and he knows he hasn't _really_ hurt Blaine, but he still winces, Blaine reaching up to rub at his head where it's hit the headboard with a heavy thunk.

"Sorry!" Kurt says. "Blaine, I'm so, so sorry."

"No, no, I'm... oh!" Blaine's eye closes as Kurt twists his wrist, Blaine flinging a hand against his mouth which does little to mask the low groan that escapes.

"Ssh," Kurt says, pressing his lips over Blaine's before moving to whisper in his ear. "Your parents are downstairs" He nips at the curve of Blaine's ear, tracing the shell before he sucks Blaine's earlobe, worrying the flesh between his teeth.

"Don't... don't ever mention my _parents _when we're doing this!" Blaine hisses, his breath ghosting warmly over Kurt's face. Kurt leans back slightly, watching the gold flecks in Blaine's good eye crackle like embers as his face flushes, a mixture of arousal and slight embarrassment that Kurt can read like a book. Blaine tilts his head, his face flushing as Kurt's slick hand rolls over the top of his cock. Kurt rests his thumb just behind the head again then lifts his hand to taste; something primitive and essentially _Blaine _flooding his senses.

Kurt breathes against Blaine's ear; he can feel it in the tiny space between them, the heating and coiling in his own stomach and at the base of his spine that signal an oncoming orgasm. He's rolling, moving his hips against Blaine's thigh, needing to feel friction, needing _more_.

Watching his own hand now, Kurt's mouth waters as Blaine starts to fuck up into it. Pausing to lick his hand again, Kurt continues his ministrations. Blaine's breathy noises of pleasure and encouragement get steadily louder and Kurt has no choice but to push up and kiss him, hard. He's rutting against Blaine in rhythm with his hand and when Blaine's tongue licks into his mouth, sloppy and really filthy, Kurt's movements become erratic.

"Oh, oh my god, _yes_." Blaine arches his back suddenly, his head hitting the pillow as he breaks away, groaning. Kurt bites his lip, Blaine's cock throbbing in his hand as his orgasm overtakes him, stripes of pearly come dripping and sliding over Kurt's fingers. Kurt wants to lick his hand, clean every drop of Blaine's come from his fingers, but he doesn't because Blaine's flicking his tongue behind his ear, his voice a throaty whisper.

"Come for me, come on, yeah, just like that," Blaine says, his voice so pornographic Kurt whimpers, his thighs trembling as his orgasm takes him by surprise, flooding his pants with warmth and wetness. It's going to be sticky and unpleasant later, not to mention the issue of getting out of Blaine's house unnoticed with a wet shirt and come stained pants, but for now all he can think is _yes_ and _thank god_.

They lie together, panting and coming down a little, sharing the silence and basking in the afterglow.

"So?" Blaine raises his eyebrow, shooting Kurt an expectant look.

"So?" Kurt asks back.

"The one eyed monster didn't let you down, did he?" Blaine intones, trying to keep from laughing.

"Oh my god, Blaine." Kurt jabs him weakly with his index finger, "You did _not_ just say that. That doesn't even make _sense_!"

"No, really," Blaine continues, his spaced-out mind passing right over Kurt's confusion. "Was that okay?" Kurt's heart flutters a little, because Blaine sounds more than a little vulnerable.

Kurt doesn't miss a beat. "Perfect as usual," he replies, "even without depth perception."

Blaine nods. "Just don't tell Finn that some of my... stuff might have gotten on his DVDs." He pauses scrunching his nose. "I kinda gave Johnny Depp a facial."

"Why on _earth_ would I tell Finn that?"

Blaine shrugs. "You're brothers." He pauses, drawling out the consonants, "brothers. It's such a silly word, like toffee or koala… brothers. Bros," he adds, with a high-pitched giggle. Then, Blaine frowns. "Please don't tell him. Please?"

"Thank God for moist towelettes," Kurt says, wryly.

"I wonder if Rachel's done a little role-playing? It seems like something she'd do, don't you think? And I _did_ get this patch from -"

Blaine will have _no_ good eye remaining if he finishes that sentence. "Inside voice, Blaine Anderson!" he shakes his head, then sighs. "Blaine, Blaine, Blaine. Why do you always ruin our post-coital moments? There's not enough bleach in the world to white out _that_ image."

"You love me really," Blaine says, sleepiness winding its way into his voice. His smile is lazy, his head sinking into the pillows. "You love me," Blaine repeats, Kurt smiling at the sense of wonderment on his face. It almost appears as though Blaine can't quite believe it himself.

Kurt returns his smile as he winds his leg between Blaine's and nuzzles the warm skin of Blaine's back with his nose. "More than ever," he replies.

**End**

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **My thanks to Jude-Araya for making co-writing so much fun. She has written plenty of Klaine before, but I'm new to this pairing, so let me know what you think!


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